


Petals and Thorns

by distantattraction



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Crimson Flowers Route, Felix/Dimitri but he's literally too stupid to realize it, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantattraction/pseuds/distantattraction
Summary: Choking on roses isn't the way Sylvain thought he'd die, but he comes to accept it. He understands that it's painful to be in love with Felix, especially when Felix is in love with Dimitri.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Petals and Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I have no more dead sylvix fics planned after this, but the temptation for double hanahaki was too great to resist. Sorry, boys.

Felix thinks it's stupid.

The first few times he coughs up a leaf or a chewed up root, he thinks it came from the food somehow. It doesn't matter that it happens as often when they're at Garreg Mach as it does when they eat around campfires beside a battlefield. It's just the cooking.

But when he coughs out a whole, unblemished rosebud, he finally has to admit there's a problem. He brings it to Manuela, finding himself cradling the flower in his palm as he walks.

"Some Warlock put a stupid curse on me," he says, tossing the rosebud onto her desk.

She looks at it for a long time. Then she asks, "Where did this come from?"

"My throat, apparently."

"Are you serious?"

"Have I ever told you a joke?"

"No," Manuela answers with a sigh. "You are notoriously unfunny. Alright. What else have you coughed up? Any more flowers?" Felix shakes his head, and Manuela nods. "Okay. That means it's still in the early stages. That means you have time."

"Don't you mean we have time? Aren't you going to cure me?"

Manuela looks at him with uncharacteristic seriousness. "I can't. It's in your bloodline. Some of Fodlan's less popular historians noted a curse that was passed on from descendant to descendant of the Ten Elites. The curse causes rosebushes to grow in the chests of those who harbor an unrequited love. The historians were mocked by their contemporaries for their focus on such an absurd disease. Other scholars didn't believe that lovesickness could become fatal. I suppose it does sound like something out of a fairytale."

"It doesn't sound like a fairytale to me," Felix says. "Sometimes they hurt coming up."

Manuela nods. "The pain will get worse as the plant matter increases. They will grow into your lungs, filling them with roots and flowers until you can no longer breathe. There are few cases recorded, only one of which included a ruptured lung. Most people simply choked to death on the flowers in their throat."

"You're telling me I'm going to _die?_ " Felix asks, incredulous. He came for a cure, not a condemnation.

"It's entirely possible. There were only two survivors listed in any of the texts I read. Which is to say that there is a cure of sorts."

"Spit it out already, then. Must you keep me waiting?"

Manuela glares at him, as petulant as a child. "You won't like it."

"Just tell me already."

"Love," she says. "Your unrequited love must become a mutual one. You see!" she exclaims, pointing at the grimace marring Felix's face. "I knew you wouldn't like it. Too fanciful for a boy like you with only battle on his mind. I'm amazed it even manifested in you. You don't seem the type for romance."

"I'm not," Felix grumbles.

"Well, if you want to survive, you'd better change that." Felix turns to leave, but Manuela stops him. That solemn look is in her eyes again. "Really, Felix. If you want to live, you need to tell whoever it is and hope they love you back. Otherwise, you'll be dead within the year. I don't want that to happen to you."

"I understand," Felix says, and he walks away.

He proceeds not to think about it except when a leaf or root makes him cough. The concept is utterly ridiculous. Unrequited love? Felix? His only love is the sword, and everyone around him knows it.

But sometimes, when a petal falls from his lips as he's drifting off to sleep, he thinks of Dimitri.

Sylvain thinks it's funny. All those times Miklan tried to give him a bloody death, and he's getting a romantic one instead. Miklan would laugh at him if he wasn't buried in an unmarked grave.

He's read about the love disease in dusty old tomes he checked out from the library in secret. It's important to Sylvain to look like a fool, but he still likes to know things. So he comes to know that one day, he will cough up so many roses that the thorns will rip his throat apart, he'll choke on his blood, and he'll die.

The thing is that he knows he'll never cure his unrequited love. He's been watching Felix as long as Felix has been alive. That's how he knows that Felix will always, always choose Dimitri over Sylvain.

Sylvain comes to terms with that early on. It's easy to understand. Dimitri is the Crown Prince of Faerghus, and Felix was born to be his companion. Sylvain is just some noble with whom they shared a childhood. He's understood that from the moment he realized Felix would only hold his hand when he couldn't hold Dimitri's.

Dimitri doesn't hold anyone's hands now, though. He's too far gone, too thirsty for the Emperor's blood. He'll kill every Adrestian to get to her, and Felix and Sylvain will be on the battlefield with him, clearing his path so he can get to her.

What a waste. So many of the soldiers lying in the dirt are close to their age. They're too young to be throwing their lives away for an Emperor or a King.

They lose sight of Dimitri, who chases a red shadow across the battlefield while Sylvain and Felix deal with Edelgard's army. Sylvain's trusty mare has long since been slain, leaving Felix as his only ally in sight. They dance, Felix slicing through the soldiers who come within reach of his sword while Sylvain's lance pierces those who are not yet in range. Soon enough, there is no one on this part of the plains left to oppose them.

Felix scans the battlefield, searching for Dimitri. They find him engaged in deadly combat with Edelgard, their weapons pulsing with horrible power. He's losing. They can see Edelgard steadily pushing Dimitri back. Felix takes a step in their direction.

An arrow lands at his feet. Sylvain looks across the field and catches sight of a mounted figure clad in purple and gold. Bernadetta doesn't miss. Sylvain has watched her hit target after target when she thinks no one else is at the archery range. The message is clear: if you come closer, the next arrow will not be so kind.

Felix knows it too, but he doesn't listen. Dimitri is all he can think about, all he has ever been able to think about. Edelgard disarms Dimitri, sending Areadbhar flying out of his hands. Felix runs forward. Sylvain runs too.

The second arrow is meant for Felix, but it hits Sylvain. It takes a lot of effort for Sylvain to put himself in the way of its path. Felix has always been faster than him, but Sylvain is still taller. He can move if he really tries. If something matters to him.

He collapses in the dirt. Felix turns to look at him, his lip twisting with indecision. "Don't go," Sylvain says. "Bernadetta will kill you. And even if she doesn't, we'll never make it in time."

Felix looks to Dimitri, just close enough that they can see him kneeling before Edelgard. So young. All of them are so young. Isn't this what Sylvain wanted? To die young? Yes, but not like this.

"You can't save him," Sylvain says. They can see Edelgard standing over Dimitri, axe in hand. All that will happen if they try to run to him is that they'll die with arrows in their chests. "Felix. Please don't leave me." Sylvain is not afraid to die, but he doesn't want to die alone.

Felix coughs. Felix coughs so violently that it brings him to his knees. Petals and leaves and woody stems spill out over his hands. His face twists up in pain, and Sylvain knows it's not just because of the flowers.

Sylvain sits beside Felix and takes his hand, swallowing down the petals in his own throat. He ignores the throbbing pain in his shoulder where the arrow hit. Felix holds his hand like they did when they were children. His whole body trembles with fear, or else with the effort of holding back tears. Sylvain isn't sure which. Felix's eyes are desperate. He is begging, but he cannot say the words.

Felix coughs again, and this time blood stains his mouth. A whole rose falls into his open hand, one of its thorns glistening red where it cut his mouth on the way out. Sylvain's chest feels tight. There are roses growing there. Soon roses will overtake them both. It doesn't feel very romantic anymore.

Sylvain laces his fingers between Felix's. They watch Edelgard raise her axe above her head. Felix squeezes his hand. The axe comes down. The boar prince is no more.

A sound comes out of Felix's throat. It is supposed to be a scream, but the flowers in his throat get in the way. The scream turns into a gargle that turns into more coughing. Even the leaves are red now, shining as they are with Felix's blood. He spits roses out onto the dirt and sobs, ripping his hand out of Sylvain's grasp to slam both fists into the ground. "He's gone," he chokes out around the blossoms. "It's over. He's gone."

Sylvain strokes Felix's back. He wishes he could say something to comfort him, but his mouth is full of petals, his throat full of thorns. Even if they weren't, what could Sylvain possibly say? Not to worry, that soon he and Felix would be joining Dimitri in the afterlife? It's no wonder Felix never loved him. Sylvain has never been able to say the right things.

Another rose blooms somewhere inside Sylvain's lungs, forcing the ones in his throat to creep upwards. This time, he cannot tamp down the urge to cough. He hacks and splutters until a mass of crushed roses crest over his tongue, thorns carving into his cheeks. Felix watches him, his eyes wide as he realizes for the first time that Sylvain shares his affliction.

"Sylvain," he says, but he is interrupted by another coughing fit. More roses, all whole, with longer, bloodier stems. He doesn't have much time left. Neither of them do. "You never told me," Felix manages to say.

"I didn't want you to know." Sylvain's voice is hoarse, his throat wrecked. Another coughing fit overtakes him. This time, the rose thorns slice Sylvain's lip on the way out. It hurts, but not as much as it hurts to watch Felix turn pale while flowers grow into his throat.

Sylvain realizes with horror that he _does_ fear death, just not his own. The very real truth is that he is going to watch Felix die, and he won't be able to do anything to stop it. Another rose forces its way out of Sylvain's throat.

"Sylvain," Felix says, fresh tears carving a path down his cheeks. Sylvain can see blood on his teeth when he speaks. "The promise."

Sylvain nods. His own mouth tastes of iron. "We'll keep it."

And they do. Sylvain sits with Felix, holding his hand as the coughing turns to retching and his breathing turns to choking. Felix's lips form Sylvain's name again, his ruined mouth unable to make the sounds.

Sylvain presses his shaking lips to Felix's pale forehead before leaning his own against it, feeling how cool Felix's skin has become. "I love you," he says. His voice is a rasp, a rose-scented whisper on the wind. "I love you."

He lays Felix's body down gently and curls up beside him. With one hand, Sylvain cradles Felix's head against his chest. He rests his other hand on Felix's waist, wishing Felix could touch Sylvain back or push him away or do anything at all. Sylvain takes a shaky breath. He catches the aroma of Felix's shampoo beneath the stench of battle. He buries his face in Felix's hair, tears spilling out onto his cheeks.

Sylvain wants it to have been peaceful, but he knows that it hurt. That it will hurt him. He coughs and chokes on leaves and thorns. It's getting harder to breathe. Sylvain doesn't fight for air. He doesn't fight for anything.

They lie in a lovers' embrace surrounded by roses. It's like a bedroom, Bernadetta thinks, except that the roses are bloodied and the men are dead. Their bodies have stiffened in this pose. She wonders if they were ever able to hold each other like this in life. She wonders which of them had wanted to.

She reaches down to stroke first Sylvain's cheek, then Felix's. They are both ice cold in the evening air. She shivers. Her bottom lip trembles, and she bites down hard in an effort to keep it still.

"Bernadetta?"

She whirls around, frantically wiping her eyes. Edelgard, flanked as ever by Hubert, stands waiting for her.

"We have to go," Edelgard says, not unkindly.

"Okay," Bernadetta whispers. She mounts her horse, who neighs comfortingly as she wipes her face.

Edelgard mounts her own horse and pulls up beside her. "I'll send someone to make sure they get back to their families."

"Okay," Bernadetta says again. But she doesn't stop crying. Edelgard waits, wanting to be sure Bernadetta is ready before they ride back to camp. She's not. She's not ready at all. "They were my friends, Lady Edelgard," she says, tears falling freely from her eyes. "I'm not sure I knew that before now. But they were my friends." She covers her face with her hands.

Edelgard puts a hand on her shoulder. "I think they knew it," she says.

Bernadetta cries more, but Edelgard waits for her. Bernadetta's bare legs grow goose pimples and her own skin turns corpse-cold. Only then do her tears finally begin to run dry.

"Shall we go?" Edelgard says, still kind, still patient.

Bernadetta casts one last look at Sylvain and Felix lying in their sea of roses before nodding. Edelgard's hand lingers on her shoulder. Bernadetta's thoughts linger on her friends.

They ride on. The war continues.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on twitter [@bottomsylvain](http://twitter.com/bottomsylvain) where you can also see what nice/spicy things im working on now that I've finished killing my anime sons


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